


Three Short Taps, Two Long

by Soncasong



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Crack, M/M, Melancholy, Purple Prose, Serious Crack, crack ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:10:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soncasong/pseuds/Soncasong
Summary: Saizo and Shiro share a bed under the cover of the night. Their forbidden romance, between a retainer and his lord's son, blooms in the face of controversy.Crack, but serious.





	Three Short Taps, Two Long

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what compelled me to do this. Complete and utter crack that takes itself way too seriously. I blame Nintendo and the squicky possibilities that the Outer Realm brings.

Moonlight streamed in through the windows. A lone bullfrog croaked his courting song underneath the windowsill. Saizo lay in bed, still, the son of the crown prince of Hoshido naked at his side.

 

“We have to stop this.”

 

Shiro shifted ever so slightly. Silence. The mattress was scratchy underneath Saizo’s body. 

 

“This is wrong, Shiro.”

 

“You let me in.”

 

A solitary cloud drifted over the moon, casting its shadow over the window. The bullfrog ceased his serenade. Saizo turned away from the other man.

 

Shiro reached over, feeling for Saizo’s hands. The mattress creaked and the cloud quivered in the sky. 

 

“Do you want me to stop?”

 

“No.”

 

“We’re both pretty messed up, then.” 

 

He was warm in Shiro’s arms. The bullfrog resumed his song.

 

* * *

 

“Watch your left.”

 

Shiro grunted, brows furrowed. Saizo’s flurry of blows did not cease, even when Shiro landed too hard on his left foot. The sun was blinding. A single swipe of the practice katana sent Shiro tumbling to the ground. 

 

Saizo extended his hand. Shiro’s eyes scanned the practice ground, resting momentarily on the windowsill of Saizo’s room. He gripped the offered hand tightly, pulling himself up. 

 

“I thought you’d go easy on me here.”

 

“Never.”

 

“You did me pretty hard yesterday too.”

 

“Watch yourself.”

 

“Sorry, man, I can’t help it.”

 

“Just be careful.”

 

“I know.”

 

They walked together back to the castle. Their shoulder bumped. Shiro laughed easily; Saizo smiled under his mask. Their fingertips brushed together, never quite touching. 

 

The sun slowly eased its light, casting a warm glow over the castle courtyard.

 

* * *

 

“Saizo.”

 

“Yes, milord?”

 

“We need to talk.”

 

“About what, milord?”

 

“You and my son.”

 

Saizo stopped dead in his track. The room was silent, save for the eerie hum of the cicadas. Ryoma was staring at Saizo, eyes narrowed. 

 

“Milord, I can explain-”

 

“Stay away from him.”

 

Saizo’s heart clenched in his chest. He was drowning on dry land, trying his best not to choke over his words.

 

“Y-yes, milord.”

 

“I am rather fond of you, Saizo, so you can stay. Don’t ever be alone with my son again.”

 

“Yes milord.”

 

“And make sure no one else knows about this.”

 

“Yes milord.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro knocked on his door once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five.

 

Saizo stopped counting after the seventh furtive knock. Three short taps, two long, their special knock. 

 

Saizo pretended to sleep, brows furrowed, eyes squeezed tight. He willed Shiro to go away. Three short taps, two long. A few minutes pass. Three short taps, two long. 

 

The waning moon hung lamely in the sky, sickly illuminating Saizo’s windowsill. The bullfrog has fallen silent, relinquishing his stage to the drone of the cicadas. Saizo shivered in the summer heat. His bed felt cold.

 

Three short taps, two long. Saizo clenched his teeth. He thought he heard a faint shuffle from the other side of the door.  _ Please, just go away.  _

 

Saizo repeated the mantra in his head until sleep overtook him. The knocking never ceased.

 

Three short taps, two long. 

 

* * *

 

 

Shiro had bags under his reddened eyes when they met to spar the next morning. Saizo averted his eyes. Kagero and Orochi were sipping tea under an overcast sky a few yards away. 

 

Saizo lunged. Shiro feebly resisted. He was careless, letting Saizo’s practice sword prod and bruise his unguarded body. 

 

“Shiro, take this seriously.”

 

“Why?”

 

Shiro stopped moving, letting his wooden staff fall limply to his side. 

 

“Why, Saizo?”

 

“Not now, Shiro.”

 

“I thought you-”

 

“Shiro!”

 

Their raised voices attracted the attention of the two women. Shiro was trembling. Saizo dropped his sword and turned, hurrying towards the castle. He did not glance back.

 

Attached to the practice sword was an unassuming slip of paper.  _ Meet me at the east wing storage room. Hour of the dog. Be careful. _

 

* * *

 

“Saizo!”

 

Ryoma stormed through the castle. The moon has retreated into the night. The servants talked in furtive whispers, eyes darting as their lord charged towards the west wing. 

 

“Did you hear?”

 

“Careful, Lord Ryoma is angry!”

 

“Shizuka caught them in the storage room.”

 

“What’s happening?”

 

“That Saizo has no shame.”

 

“Lord Shiro… and his father’s retainer, Saizo!”

 

“Shizuka still owes me five gold.”

 

“Scandalous!”

 

Shiro was not in his room. Ryoma quickened his pace. He was a fool for letting Saizo go with a measly warning. He should have known.  

 

Ryoma slammed open the door to Saizo’s room. Saizo’s drawers sat closed in the corner, his bed neatly made, his scrolls laid out in rows on his desk. The window was flung open. Moonlight streamed into the room, illuminating the solitary figure standing under the doorway. Ryoma was frozen in place.

 

An opportunistic heron swooped down in to the pond. Its head shook violently in the moonlight, the leg of the debonair bullfrog hanging from its beak. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
